The Golden Pace

Pictured above is the "Golden Ratio" which is apparently God's little blueprint for creating things (1.618 or 2 to 3 to 5). This particular blog post has little to do with the Golden Ratio, but I was looking for signs of that perfect thing... because I came really close to finding it this week.

My runs during this, week seven, were pretty good. Due to inclement weather on Tuesday, I saved my week starter until the afternoon, which was pretty pleasant. I was also at a track with astroturf, so I ran a bit on there barefoot- much more foot friendly than my ill-fated tryst with barefoot running on a treadmill. Now, then I got up the next morning and did six miles, only about 12 hours later, and the legs felt tired, but I kept through. Thursday, I also ran in the afternoon, and was looking forward to Saturday, which was to be a 12 miler- the longest I would have ever run.

Saturday morning was clear and nice, so out I set. My first three miles felt kind of blah- not bad, just not in the groove. Then, during mile four, I found it- I found the Golden Pace. Don't ask me what the difference was, but for the next 8 miles, my feet and legs were perfectly comfortable, my breathing was relaxed, my mind was thoughtful, and I kept feeling like I was just floating down a river. Seriously, it was damn near transcendental. As I went up my last hill, the legs got a little tired again, but nothing too bad. So I kept going. Instead of 12, I did 13.1; the length of a half-marathon. Now, I won't do a real half-marathon until February as you recall, but I know for sure I can, and my time was about two hours and seven minutes- no world's records certainly, but for a guy who wouldn't run more than three without being chased by pitchfork wielding villagers, I felt pretty good.

And today, the day after, I feel pretty good. We'll see how my two day burn feels tomorrow, but I think all this running is starting to add up- see? Math, now my Golden Ratio allegory works.

Did learn another lesson this week though- always trim your toenails before a long run. The ring toe (well, what else do you call it? It's the one by the pinkie) on my left foot decided to get all Ted Bundy on my middle toe, and in my euphoria I didn't notice until I pulled off my sock and had a momentary urge to call CSI: Sierra Vista in. Looked worse than it was though, and next week proper grooming will precede all long runs.

I hope it's still Golden...